


A second chance at a second life

by Shadowmoon738



Series: Not quite dead [1]
Category: Hamilton - Fandom
Genre: Death, Multi, Original Character(s), Poor Life Choices, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowmoon738/pseuds/Shadowmoon738
Summary: What would you do. If you found yourself awake when your last memories were of betrayal and your own death? What if you found yourself in...a new state of life? Something not quite dead. But you have no beating heart?Well, this is the situation we find one Alexander Hamilton. Once a great lawyer before the world turned and burned itself as the dead rose, before friends became enemies and hunger knawed his insides.





	1. Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BattyPastel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BattyPastel/gifts).

> This is set in a apocalypse AU me and my friend play around with quite a bit, so apologies if it isn't the best! I haven't written a long fic for quite a while. And yes the first chapter is real small so don't worry the next ones will be longer. I just wanted to get this started~

When one dies, they would think the next thing they see would be darkness. Or maybe fire, or a bright light to those who are more religious. Alexander held no such beliefs. Not after the world seemed to turn on the living and the dead started to reanimate. Feasting on friends and family and strangers alike. They held no memories from when They too had beating hearts and breath in their lungs. Even if they were infected and slowly turned, their memories seemed to be the first thing that started to go. Not the pigment of their skin, not the light in their eyes. No, unfortunately the first signs were a faulty memory which made it all the harder to truly trust anyone around you.

If someone had told Alexander, that he would be bitten. That he would have been put out of his misery before it began. He would have laughed, he wasn't stupid. And only the stupid got bitten. The stupid and the unlucky. He had survived a war, he had survived poverty back in Nevis, hurricanes, becoming an orphan and loosing the last of his family. He had more luck then anyone he knew.

Yet here he was. Sitting in a shallow grave, a hole in his head and a confused look upon his face as he stared at the slowly raising sun. If he was stupid, or unlucky. Then what powers tormented his soul enough to keep his body in motion. To keep feelings in his chest despite the clear gunshot hole through his left eye. Flexing his hands slowly against his dirt stained knees he couldn't help but muse quietly that he needed no breath. Yet his memories pulled the action of breathing into reality. 

Alexander Hamilton, once a father, once a great soldier, and once a lawyer. Sat quietly in the small clearing he had once been buried under. Watching the sun slowly rise as sentience and memories still clung tight to his undead frame. As hunger, sharp and persistent gnawed at what humanity he still had. He slowly stood, cringing for a brief second as stiff limbs moved, stepping from his grave, Alexander knew he still had so much work to do.


	2. Floating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you inhabit a body that isn't meant to inhabit a soul anymore  
It can be tricky to keep track of things.

Work was just a small word for all Alexander knew he had to do. Getting used to his body against as the current priority on his mind as his legs almost buckled under him again as he stepped wrong over some rubble. What used to be here he could only guess. But hits of stone and broken wood was better then the constant brown and green of the forest he had first woken up in.

His single onyx eye gazed quietly over the broken buildings that may have once been homes to who knows how many people. His body froze for a brief second as something flashed in the corner of his eye. Turning he couldn't help the sharp tilt of his head. Staring blankly for a moment at a bit of green cloth that waved in the wind, it looked maybe to once have been part of a curtain. And for a moment Alexander couldn't remember why he was staring at the cloth with such intent, not until a soft breeze ghosted through the hole where his left eye had once been.

A sharp shudder rocketed through the immigrant's body as his body felt oh so heavy. As if he had just dragged himself back into his own moving carcass. As if he had been floating off somewhere. Disconnected. That was dangerous. He knew that already as he felt himself...settle back into his own skin. Moving quickly he hauled himself over what little remained of the broken wall, swift fingers finding a rip in the fabric and ripping. Just enough to wrap around his head and tie off. Covering the hole from both sides, fussing with the back of his hair a moment to help cover a bit of the cloth as well. Hoping it would...help in some way.

Maybe he if he didn't have a glaring hole in his head he might actually survive meeting...living humans. The thought of the living--, it made Alexander shudder slightly, his fingers digging into his other arm as he started moving once more on a undefined path through the rubble that was once a city. Running into the living...He couldn't chance it. Not quite yet, he hardly knew his own body anymore. But he had so much he needed to remember. Both on just how to Move his body and so much to learn about this new self of his. The thoughts of what he used to be brougtt the memory of breath back to his undead body.

He didn't know when he had stopped, but once more cold air slowly filled his lungs in a steading breath. His swirling confusing thoughts slowing just a fraction. Enough for him to detatch his nails from his other arm before he broke the skin. Enough for him to slip through a window of a half destroyed and collapsed house. Shelter for the night at least...Tomorrow..He had to keep heading towards the sun. Yet even as he let his mind wander and relax. Let himself feel the cold stone against his back. One thought did follow Alexander into his pseudo sleep. Did the sun always set so fast?


End file.
